


Cold

by zarabithia



Category: Captain America (Movies), DCU (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Implied Murder, Incest between people who aren't related in canon but are here, M/M, Multi, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 14:18:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5589325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the beginning, Steve is cold. It takes a long time for that to change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold

**Author's Note:**

> Written for kitsune-jade on tumblr who wanted "Clark Kent x Pre-Serum Steve Rogers x Bruce Wayne - Game of Thrones AU." It is not quite a Game of Thrones A/U, because that is not my fandom.

In the beginning, Steve is cold.

Their world had always been a cold one. Steve cannot remember a time in which he had not been cold, in fact. Cuddled underneath sheets first with his mother, and later, with Bucky and Peggy, Steve always remembers trying to get warm by scooting as close as he could to people whose skin was never was any warmer than his own.

But their chests were often more still than his, and the soothing thump thump of a heart not held hostage by constant rounds of coughs were enough of a comfort.

Later, Steve will miss those comforts.

Later still, Steve’s body is just as ill as ever, but no longer as visually unappealing to the rich as it used to be. His body still betrays him by being too weak to fight to support his mother and himself, but the same useless body allows him to provide in another way.

At least, his mother will be taken care of and her debts forgotten.

And in the House of Stark, Steve does not want for food. The soup, when it comes to him, is served on opulent tables covered in animal skin. They eat next to a fire and unlike his mother’s soup, the meal is not cold by the time it touches his lips.

But Steve is cold, nevertheless. He is wrapped in skin of animals he’s never seen, of animals Bucky and Peggy have never hunted. But he shivers as discreetly as he can and forces himself to hold as still as often as he forces himself to smile at the king.

When Obadiah has stopped his tales of mourning for the long lost last Stark and his hands reach for Steve in a bedroom even more opulent than the rest of the castle, Steve no longer has to fake his smile because the king does not care. And amidst all of the movement, the shivers are not seen.

Obadiah is fond of him, and the king takes the chance to tell Steve this as often as possible. But Obadiah is more fond of power, and when he begins to believe it is threatened, he is quick to give Steve away.

“The brothers Wayne are terribly boring,” Obadiah tells him. “You will miss me more than you think.”

Steve misses his mother. He misses Bucky. He misses Peggy. He does not miss the king or anyone from the House of Stark.

In the House of Wayne, Steve wears short sleeves and long, loose pants. His meals are cold soups and frozen delicacies. All the drinks come in large glasses full of ice and frozen fruit.

Lord Bruce’s eyes are as sharp as any beast Peggy ever had in her sights, but Lord Clark’s eyes are as inviting as the Stark fires that never warmed Steve.

“You’ve not quite traveled to the desert, Steve,” Clark tells him as they ride horses together in the courtyard. “Here, we need a bit of the cold and the warm to survive.”

And there _is_ cold - cold in the form of lies and half-truths that carefully conceal the truth of the brothers’ relationship with one another. There is more cold in the form of other brothers long since lost, whose names do not get spoken during the day, but who bring the same dull ache in Lord Bruce’s heart as Bucky and Peggy do to Steve.

But there is warmth.

There is warmth in the small smiles shared between the brothers, and there is warmth in the hands of Alfred and the queen, who take turns rubbing medicine onto Steve’s back and making him warm tea when the cough gets to be too much. There is warmth in the paintings from Steve’s own hand that line the castle hallways, and in the way that Steve is addressed as Lord Clark’s official consort, instead of Obadiah’s unnamed courtesan. There is warmth in the speed of the horses and the laughter of the Falconer as they run past him. 

And at night … at night, there are two solid heart beats to lull Steve to sleep, one on each side.

The arms on either side are warm, too, so much so that Steve’s does not have to hide any shiver and his smiles, though still rare, are sincere.


End file.
